


Double Decker Special

by regim0n_z



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Bad Roleplay, F/M, Loss of Virginity?, Sexual Harassment, fem dom, following SRIV romance scene, my boss uses the french fem voice if thats any consideration, not an original fic by any means but i couldnt help it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28912935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regim0n_z/pseuds/regim0n_z
Summary: Everyone that you ever would've slept with is dead. But you guess there's Matt Miller still.
Relationships: Female Boss (Saints Row)/Matt Miller
Kudos: 11





	Double Decker Special

You were pent up. God, you were so pent up. That’s just what the end of the world did to you. It made you so ridiculously horny. Honestly, probably because of how repressed you were left when your house, your entire life more like was completely blown up, along with all your old vices in it. Back in the old days, you had a bad day, you got a little stressed, then you had either a dozen hookers or a closet full of boyfriends to handle it. Hell, you even had a whole arsenal of toys if you were feeling lazy. No problems. You’d fuck it and drink it away until your mind was clear and you were ready to barrel through life’s obstacles again, business as usual.

Now what do you have? A metal bucket to live in, two computer nerds, an alien A.I. eyeball thing, and Keith David, who, respectfully, didn’t want to fuck you. You know, cuz you’d asked already. No hookers, no toys, no booze. This ship was more like a sensory deprivation tank than any crib you ever had. Nothing but cold metal edges and piles of alien technology. Nothing for you to use here, nothing to find solace in. Just you, maybe your hand, and the slowly setting in existential doom that you could not avoid, because there were no distractions in space.

Really. You weren’t going to sit around and think about how fucked you were. You were going to hide in one of those metal corners and fuck your hand. Fuck the robot. Fuck anything. God, you would fuck a tree right now if there were any left. You were getting so deprived, you’d rough-handle your own tits and call yourself a filthy whore, trying to imagine it was literally anybody else doing it. You didn’t care if any of your roommates found you or heard you like this, you’d let them. You really couldn’t be the only one this pent up. It might fuel their own steamy metal corner romps later on. It wasn’t until Matt Miller passed by you in the middle of the act and called you an absolute degenerate that anything changed.

Miller thinks you’re a degenerate? Boy, that really got you hot and bothered. You probably wouldn’t think it any other time in any other place, but that virgin prick was really starting to look appetizing.

So you stalked him out again. Snuck into the back of the ship where you knew he’d been hanging out the most, and waited around. He was there already when you entered. Saw you approaching, and immediately looked away, trying to pretend he hadn’t. You sat down on the couch, his couch you guessed, since it was covered in all his dorky belongings, and made a show of stretching out and yawning, shaking your tits a little, making yourself comfortable. His head didn’t budge. So, instead you tried addressing him. “Sup?” That didn’t work either.

There was no way he didn’t notice your presence at least. You kicked your feet up.

“Pretty awkward what happened the other day, huh? Haha,” you said casually.

More silence. His head ducked behind a computer screen.

“Didn’t mean to, you know… _Expose_ anyone like that. Just happened…” you continued. “Been so pent up lately… Stuck in this ship… Really needed some good… You know... Blow off some steam.”

“No,” he finally said. “I do _not_ want to talk about this.”

“Right, right,” you prattle on, holding your hands between you defensively. “Just wanted to come in here and apologize. You know… Haven’t really gotten to know my new homie yet. Not since all that bullshit that went down in Steelport. Thought we could hang out a little. Here.”

You gave him space to respond. But, again, he didn’t. Didn’t look at you or anywhere else away from the monitor. You hummed, and decided to change up your methods a little.

“So...” you start to say slowly. “You get a good look or what?”

“Oh, for god’s sake. You fucking whore!” Miller cried. “Get out of here! Leave me alone!”

The outburst made you jump, made your boots slip off from the couch. You got to your feet and ran out the backroom before Miller had the sense to chase you out.

The next time you saw him, you ran into Miller at the watercooler. You weren’t intending to harass them there or anything, just incidentally met there at the same time. He eyed you wearily only for a second before plowing forward, rudely reaching for a cup before you so he wouldn’t have to keep standing there while you filled yours.

You watched him fill the cup in silence. Really, not trying to upset him with whatever idiotic thing came out of your mouth next. Just patiently waiting. But that wouldn’t stop you from staring. Staring down his collar, at the strained tendon in his neck as he awkwardly held his cup still. Thinking about taking a bite out of it. The water filled his cup in drops, there was absolutely abysmal water pressure in space. He was stiff. He knew his every movement was being watched. Was completely paralyzed under your gaze. Like the evil Medusa you were.

And he didn’t move until the water suddenly spilled over his hand, and he broke free from his paralysis to jolt away. Only spilling his water more. He stared down, nervously, realizing his cup was half-emptied by now, but resorted to slinking away from you anyway. Deciding it wasn’t worth the cost. You watched him disappear around a metal corner, and frowned.

Later on, you were sitting around the homies, drinking sterilized waters like it was liquor and playing an uncouth game of poker, using salvaged ship parts as chips, and Miller was there. He sat across from you shrinking into his seat, wearing the most miserable expression possible. You might’ve felt bad for him if your horny wasn’t controlling your brain. His eyes stayed locked on the game table, laser focused and awkward, no matter how heavily your eyes trailed all over him, seeking his attention. He obviously didn’t want to look at you. 

But then, after an hour of you willing it, he made a shy pass at you. His eyes peaked at your exposed clavicle, and slowly lingered down the plunging zip on your space suit for half a second, until he realized he’d been caught. You held his gaze hostage as long as you could manage, stunned, saw the humiliated blush spread across his ears, and then you blushed too. You really, really blushed. 

He immediately looked away, stuffed his hands into his pocket and made an excuse to leave the game. Fine by you. That was all the invitation you needed to follow him back to his corner of the ship.

Especially because you lost that game to Kinzie seconds later. Brutally, too. Fuck. Even if you weren’t that invested in it, nothing got you worked up like losing. 

Kinzie’s ugly laughter drilled a hole straight through your fogged over sex-repressed brain. It really twisted you up. Made you feel crazy. God. You were desperately in need of a good dicking. Something hard, and hot, and capable of scrambling your insides. Something Miller had. And if he wasn’t able to do that much, he was still a stick to sit on. You’d do the scrambling yourself.

You were nearly foaming at the mouth stalking him to the back of the ship, but tried to remain poised anyway. You should come off as non-threatening, at least. You paused behind a metallic door to check your reflection out for a second, making sure your teeth were clear and your hair perfectly coiffed. For good measure, you unzipped your suit just a few more inches down your sternum and let your cleavage pool out. Honestly? This suit made your tits look great. 

Miller didn’t even notice you approaching him. His head was too far rammed inside some sort of server, its beating and static probably drowning out your footsteps. This room was filled with computer towers and a whole sleuth of electronic crap you probably couldn’t name, and his hands were all over it. Like whatever it was, it was more interesting than you. You had to clear your throat obnoxiously loud to steal his attention away. His head bobbed up, he saw you, then he saw your tits, and he frowned.

“What do you want?” he asked brazenly once he’d realized it was you.

“Matthew,” you mustered up with all the seductive prowess you left on Earth. It was easy when your mind was so clouded over by desperation and he’d probably never seen real tits this close anyway. You leaned forward against the opposing computer tower he was blocked behind so he could get the best view of your cleavage, perfect angle, lighting and everything. “I’ve come with a proposition for you.”

“Okay…” he said suspiciously. “What is it?”

“I’m going to let you fuck me. You no longer have to die a virgin.”

At first, he was caught off guard. Then he looked offended.

“You… What!” he piped. 

“Come on…” you drawl. “I can’t be the only one this pent up here. Besides, I see the way you stare at me. ‘ _You absolute degenerate_ ’!”

His face had gone completely red. But he hesitated, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, and you watched his reservations slowly crumble down into nothing.

“What do you get out of it?” he asked, trying to remain suspicious, but you could hear the way his voice tore.

“I get fucked,” you said confidently.

He stared down at the floor in the picture of a socially awkward virgin. Somehow, his shyness was so attractive to you. You wanted to push everyone his buttons, run your hands all over them. Eat him all up. “I… I guess,” he keened. “Yeah, we can do that.”

Once you got the confirmation, you were already pushing past that tower, hands outstretched and raring to go. But he swatted them away with ninja-like precision. “One condition though,” he said over them. Your hands twitched a little in frustration.

Honestly. You’d be down for just about anything. As long as he… yes. “Yes,” you almost growl. “What is it?”

“Can you call me Nyte Blayde while we… you know.” 

You resisted grabbing your temples. “For God’s sake. Sure.” 

That made him smile, pleased enough. So you took the initiative, again, and threw him by his shoulders into the nearest computer tower. Not hard, but he started fidgeting violently underneath you anyway.

“No! No, don’t do that!”

You immediately backed off again, confused.

“What, are you trying to break this?” he cried, cradling the wall of electronics like its feelings had been hurt. You glanced between him and the computer, and sighed, feeling a little awkward at how difficult this was. But not trying to dissuade him either.

“No. Uh…” You placed your hands back on his shoulders and tried shoving him down instead, waiting for him to bend at the knees until you could do the rest of the work with a foot, kicking him down to the floor. He fell to his back disoriented, giving you enough time to crawl over him and pin him down with your thighs.

Miller grimaced at the change of position. “God, you really are degenerate, aren’t you?” he groaned. But he didn’t object to you pulling his zip down the expanse of his chest and sliding your hands inside. Instead, his jaw went slack, his eyes followed your every movement, and he even released a slight shudder when your hands graced a nipple for the first time. And just when he was warming up to your exploration, you pulled your hands back to admire the view. He frowned, and reeled back slightly, but it was only to hide his embarrassment. You could see that blush travel all the way down his neck now, maybe it went even further. Looking nothing like the super macho comic book character he always talked about. The thought made you smile.

“Shut up,” you told him gently, as you allowed one hand to serpent its way around his neck. Not pressing hard, but you didn’t have to. It was already enough to make him keen a little.

“I have you right where I want you…,” you said in your most villainous tone. Trying not to let it drip with too much of your desperation. Honestly, you were so turned on right now, so satisfied to have a person between your thighs again, you could’ve squeezed them together and cum in ten seconds now. But you couldn’t let yourself come undone. Not yet. You needed to see Matt Miller squirm more. “I know all your weaknesses… Nyte Blayde. Mwa ha ha.”

You watched something change behind his eyes. Like he remembered he was supposed to be the triumphant hero, the dominant one, and not just a little bitch. Not even crushed between the villainous thighs of some femme-fatale succubus, sucking out his soul.

“No… I won’t succumb to you… Fiend…” He grunted out, trying to wrestle his arms free from underneath you. You clamped your legs down to hold them there. But he didn’t let up. Neither did you. Though, between his relentless wriggling between your legs making your eyes cross, you were coming dangerously close to riding his torso. Not good. You had to make him stop somehow. 

Utilizing some quick thinking, you held a hand to his chest and made some corny, over-the-top mouth sounds, as if you had blasted him with some superpower. Miller stared at your hand quizzically, only for a second, before he got the idea and his body suddenly went limp… Wow. That actually worked.

“Wh-what did you do to me?” he asked, strained through his teeth. You could actually feel his body tensing underneath you. He was really into this… You bit your lip. Laughter was welling up from inside your throat, but you pushed it down.

“I hit you… with my sex beam!” you said mock-triumphantly. “Now I have you under my complete control!”

“No!” Miller cried. “Anything but that!”

This time, the laughter spilled out. You curbed it to sound like an evil cackle.

Cautiously, you began removing your legs from around his side, one by one, so that you could slide down to a better position in his lap. His arms didn’t move to escape once you’d given them the clearance, so you felt confident dislodging yourself. Only then did you realize how desperately you were clamped down on him, and your legs shook as you crawled down. Not very villainous, but you couldn’t deny your need right now.

And when you were fully seated, finally you found his cock, absolutely solid and jutted into you, barely restrained, from underneath the thin space suit fabric. You can’t help the breathy, “ _fuck_ ,” that worms its way out of your throat, and Miller can’t suppress a sound either.

You looked down at him again. He was static, arms slack, eyebrows knitted together, and his jaw was still slightly ajar, watching you with needy, half lidded eyes as his breaths came out labored. Watching with anticipation. That look was tastier than it had any right to be. But you wanted to test the limits of it.

So you crossed your arms, stuck your nose up in the air like you were through chasing after the hero. Now it was his turn to chase after you. “My minion,” you said caustically. “I want you to undress me.”

Miller’s adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed down a sound. Slowly, his freed hands rose up, and those long, spiny fingers made for the zip on your suit, delicately, between the pads of two fingers, dragged it down. There wasn’t much tension left holding your breasts inside, and soon they bounced out from the open zip, sprung to freedom before Miller’s very eyes.

But he didn’t do anything else. Just laid with his hands awkwardly suspended around your exposed bosom. You held back a sigh, resisting grabbing his hands and sticking them on your tits yourself, and instead forced the annoyance that played on your lips into a grim smile. “Minion… Now I want you to touch me.”

His fingers twitched a little. And slowly, too slowly, he reached and grabbed ahold of your breasts. Squeezing them softly in his palms. “No…” he grunted out, continuing to knead and pull at them anyway. “No, I don’t want to… Sylvia...”

That made you grimace. Regardless of how much fun you were having, it felt kind of awkward getting felt up by someone who wasn’t verbally consenting. Still, you felt his dick jump under your ass, and he roughed up your tits like it was his first time touching… Well, it probably was. His hands were a lot more enthusiastic than his words.

“Uh… Undress me more,” you commanded, and you watched Miller hesitantly remove his hands from your tits and place them on your sides instead. Slowly, still too slowly, they slid down your skin until they met the scrunched up ends where your spacesuit rested on your hips. He hooked his fingers underneath and started tugging it down further. Two thumbs pressed into your backside as they pulled your suit along it, and then down the surface of your thighs, where he finally pulled the thing off of you one leg at a time. You might have given him credit for his expert touch, maddeningly stringing you along like this, if the terrified look on his face didn’t betray any facade he might have had for it being intentional. Weird, but… okay.

Finally, you were naked, and absolutely dripping with need. Sitting atop his clothed dick you were like king of the mountain, prepared to rain down slick fury. And god, were you desperate to be sitting on top of that _un_ -clothed dick too. You couldn’t wait anymore. You started shredding the suit off of him.

“No!” Miller suddenly cried. “Dont!”

You stilled completely. Fists bunched in the fabric.

For a terrifyingly long minute, you and Miller just stared at each other. Until his brows knit together again, this time in a half-confused, half-annoyed expression. And you realized that maybe you should say something.

“W…” You started. Almost nervous to ask. “Are you… Are you acting? Or do you really mean that?”

“Of course I’m acting. What do you think!” Miller spat out, his usual cocky attitude surfacing suddenly. Suddenly not the squirming virgin that you loved to fuck with, but the facitious prick you loved slapping the shit out of. “You’re totally ruining this!” he whined.

Your jaw clamped shut as you stared down at him. “You little… fucking…” you grunted out. And he was still brimming under you loftily, like he thought he was the one sitting on top right now.

So you grabbed onto his jaw, _hard_ , and ground down on his cock, _hard_ , until he was back to squirming under you like the little bitch that he was. You leaned down and held his face close to yours so he wouldn’t miss you say, “Shut the fuck up. Minion.”

His teeth clenched nervously together, and he only half-defiantly gazed back up to you. Before, finally, accepting defeat, nodding in submission. 

That elicited a smile from you. You leaned down one last time to whisper, “Good,” into his ear, and left a chaste kiss on his cheek. 

All of Miller’s remaining suit that you left half-stretched across his shoulder, you bunched up in your fists only to toss back at him. “Undress,” you commanded, and he immediately started finicking with the zip and sleeves to get the thing off him, not even saying a word about how your bare thighs still had parts of the suit locked down to his skin. You crossed your arms and sat there, loved to watch him struggle more. Loved the urgency he had. “Prepare yourself for me!” you said grandly.

Still, he managed. Squirming all around from underneath your queenly ass to finally strip himself. Most importantly, to finally free that dick.

It sprang to life before you. And it could have been the most perfect dick left in the world. Not that big, not that thick, nothing special. Uncut, red, swollen tip, glistening with precum. Absolutely lewd. You would have stuffed your throat with it that second, if you weren’t so desperate to stuff something else.

“God… Fuck,” You said outloud, almost to yourself even. “I need that inside me… I need… Fuck.”

Miller swallowed, and grabbed onto your hips with those spiny fingers to better position you over himself. You would have reprimanded him for doing so without your orders, if you weren’t so exhilarated to see him take charge.

But he didn’t push in immediately, just stalled there, looking between you and your cunt with a lost expression. So you teased him one final time by dragging your slick all down the underside of his cock and resting up at his tip, your lips trying to hungrily suck him up, just to give him a taste of the warm flesh that awaited ahead. It made a sticky, wet sound. You were, repeat, _drenched_.

Miller’s nose bunched up as he witnessed the obscene act. “God, you are so… wet,” he said again in his regular posh voice. Like he was observing something disgusting. 

“Yeah? What did you expect? Sand?” you groaned out. You were literally seated on the tip of his dick now, dripping all over him. Your thighs nearly shaking trying to hold yourself there for him. Couldn’t have made it any easier. “God, just… Just fucking fuck me, you fucking prick.”

You only got a warning in the tightening of his grip on your frame before Miller forced himself halfway in. You insides screamed at the sudden intrusion, unexpected and unprepared, and you heaved out a mantra of _fuck, fuck, fuck_. Already having gone farther than your fingers have been able to for months, but it just takes you a minute to readjust your hips over his until you can bounce yourself further onto his dick, quickly and meticulously stretching yourself open. Soon, you’re fully seated, his cock is pressing up against your every wall, and you release a sigh so powerful it threatens to unwind your whole being.

Miller is absolutely stunned beneath you, never having experienced pussy this good, obviously. You know just the way to twist your hips and fuck him right, so you’re making him squirm and hitting every right spot inside you at the same time. Fuck. After everything you’d been through the last few months, you really deserved this.

You went on riding Miller with vigor, and the look on his face was just dazed. His hands froze at your side, too distracted by getting his brains fucked out to know what to do with them, his jaw slacked, and his eyes close to lulling back into his head. Already, you could feel his cock swelling inside you. Threatening to end this session early. You weren’t going to let that happen.

So you reached down underneath yourself, and pinched the base of it between your fingers. That got his attention. His eyes flared open at you.

“Listen up, _minion_ ,” you demanded, giving a tight squeeze for good measure. He nearly squealed. “I command you not to come until I do. Got that?”

“But… but wh…” he babbled. You shushed him with your free hand.

“You’ll know when I come. _But_ ,” The hand at his lips dropped to wrap around his throat again. You could feel his whimpers under your fingers before they came out of his mouth. “If you disobey me, and you come before I do… I’ll…”

Your mind raced to find a feasible threat to give a comic book hero. To give this stupid nerdy kid who had his dick stuffed inside you something he would take seriously.

“I’ll tear your stupid vampire head off!” 

That got a reaction from him. Good enough. 

Something spilled out of Miller’s mouth halfway between an agreement and a moan. 

Just to be a fucking jackass, you bent forward, ear down to his face, and asked mock-politely, “What was that, minion?”

Another half-groan wormed its way out of his throat, this time his mouth tried formulating it into words better. He said, carefully, and lewdly, “Y-yes… Master…”

Your insides absolutely knotted up. Fuck. You didn’t give him any indication he should call you that, but god, if it didn’t get you worked up. Like all your old Earth hookers and Earth boyfriends halfway into fucking you, they’d always tell you, _“Yeah, that’s it, that’s it. You’re the boss.” “You’re the boss. You’re fucking in charge.” "You're the fucking president! I'm fucking the fucking president of the United States!"_ You just loved that.

So you wasted no time slamming yourself back on that vampire cock. And riding it like your life depended on it. Like his life depended on it too.

Miller’s hands were back on your hips in a second, desperately grasping at them while he hammered into you from the floor. It didn’t matter how messily or inexperienced that hammering was, because you were so needy and so hot. That virgin dick was a boiling hot rod, burning through your insides, setting your organs aflame, and it was everything you needed in that moment. Everything you needed since he called you a degenerate that one time. Everything you needed since the Earth was fucking destroyed, really. Every thrust in, throb, out, repeat was one less worry fucked out of your mind.

Your orgasm gripped at you from the ankles, pulling up from what felt like the underground, and absolutely threw you over the precipice. You couldn’t allow Miller to fuck this one up. You snatched his hands away and threw them back at him, not noticing or caring how hard he flinched back, so you could latch onto him hard, and absolutely slam yourself down on that dick and fill yourself up to the brim. You clenched around him so hard you saw stars.

And ‘cuz you were so dazed and so satisfied with that cock, you let it spill inside of you a couple seconds later. No thoughts about it.

You sat that for a while afterward, trying to catch your breath, the virgin’s soft vampire dick still wedged inside of you and his vampire sperm leaking out around it.

It was a disgusting feeling. Finally, you came to your senses and rolled off of him, realizing for the first time you just hadn’t thought about human ejaculate in a while amongst all the other nastier, goopier things you’d seen since picking up alien slaying for a living. Yep, it was still gross. Still smelled gross. Still felt gross. When you struggled back onto your feet, it dripped down your thighs in globs. Still a gross mess.

Miller stirred back alive once you’d stood and made to walk away. He really looked like a dumbass, laying there in the middle of the metal flooring, floppy dick stuck to his side, coated in all kinds of different liquids, wearing the dopiest grin on his face.

When he made eye contact with you, he stopped grinning. Then he stopped making eye contact.

Not a virgin anymore, but the same socially awkward loser.

You looked that loser over and remembered all the embarrassing bullshit that had come out of your mouth just a few minutes ago, all with the express purpose of getting that loser off and... Oh god. Did you really just fuck Matt Miller? Like, actually? What the fuck was wrong with you?

Miller was grimacing, propped up on an elbow now and looking down at the defiled state of himself. “Oh god,” he whinged. “Did I really just shag you?”

A second later, he was smacked in the head with his own discarded suit, projected somewhere from your direction. The force knocked him back on the floor.

“Congrats,” you said in parting. “You can die peacefully now.”

You were behind metal doors before you could hear his response, anticipating a shower.

After that one special evening the two of you shared together, you didn’t pursue Matt Miller again. Even if he wasn’t opposed to pursuing you. Once or twice, he’d slip into the control room when he thought you were in there alone. You usually weren’t. Usually, Kinzie was there with you, just folded up on the floor, out of sight. And being the asshole she was, she’d clamp her mouth shut and pretend to be scarce, loved getting to hear Matt Miller making a fool of himself, trying to stumble his way through an intimate proposal, so that she could make fun of you for it later. You turned him down whether Kinzie was listening or not. Weren’t interested. He’d walk off like a kicked puppy.

That didn’t mean you wouldn’t think about him the next time you were hidden in one of those cold, metal corners, getting real friendly with a nice, long “alien apparatus” you’d found and repurposed. (Nice). It was just fine for now. Probably bigger than anyone else’s “apparatus” on the ship anyway. But maybe, just maybe, after a while, you’d grow a little desperate again. Get a little sloppier about hiding, or locking the door all the way. Leave it open just a crack, so that when he walks past it and hears a noise, he’ll have no choice but to investigate. And there he’ll find you. Spread open. Wanton. And it’ll be just like in porn where he has no option but to fuck you right then. That would be just the best, wouldn’t it? There was no porn left like that in space.

Maybe you did leave the door open a crack this time. Footsteps echoed down the hallway, coming for your direction. You allowed your hand to speed up, making that apparatus hit the spot that made you whine out loud. Then the footsteps sped up. They’d obviously heard you. Raced up to your room. And from outside the half-cracked door, you heard a voice call out, “Boss? Are you okay in there?” But it wasn’t Miller.

The door opened, and Keith Davis stood on the other side, his face gone completely blank. Didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at you. He just closed the door, and walked away.

**Author's Note:**

> We really live in the worst possible timeline.


End file.
